


Black Cat of Town Abel

by Mixara



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Apocalyptic soul searching, Inner Demons, Multi, Other, a lot of inner dialogue, and marmalade eating, bear with me here, developement galore, fear facing, this might change more as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:19:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixara/pseuds/Mixara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd think this would be a story about someone strong and kind and capable surviving the apocalypse. But nah. You'll be walking in the shoes of one bad mannered, short-tempered, dichotomous idealist who just landed themselves a runner's job in some god forsaken survivor establishment known as "Abel Township".<br/>You'll be following the story of a classic nobody. A wallflower with a foul mouth and a bad reputation. In a way, there's a little bit of us all on this path.</p><p>Runner Five in the making as they traverse some dark paths and find their home in a zombie-infested new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You'd think the end of the world would have started off with more of a bang. Shambling corpses ravaging the next door neighbor, screaming, explosions, you know. The whole nine yards. Like in those movies we all watched as a kid. But it isn't like that at all. In fact, the 'end' was so drastically anticlimactic. it seemed almost like a joke at first.  
It was a cloudy Tuesday. That's all you remembered. Muggy and stifling in the small studio apartment. The sound of an alarm clock beeping and the television murmuring on low. Nothing new to this simple scene. Nothing drastically different about going through the motions of this routine. But there it was. On TV.  
"The End is Here".  
Huh. What a strange thing to say. Looking outside, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Save for the absence of a lot of the usual faces that would normally bustle about in this back street alley view from the window. But the tv continued to show scenes of brutality and gore. Of shambling, sickly looking people, and riots all over the world. It didn't quite sink in. Not at first. There was a strange air of denial as you shut off the television, an uncertain twitch in your mouth as you got up and hesitantly opened up the door.  
No sounds. No loud Ms. Gonzalez hollering at her 16 year old son. No grumpy Mr. Colon shuffling through the halls. No smirking Ms. D'occhio trounsing up the stairwell with yet another tale of grandeur. Nothing at all. But maybe that was just a thing lately, and they failed to notice it. Maybe the world was a little more silent the more time you spent outside of your own head. Yeah... Yeah that had to be it. Being a daydream heavy introvert didn't quite suit a lifestyle in the city, I suppose.  
"Heh.. heh. I'm thinking too much, right?" padding out quietly onto the carpeted halls, you gently called out,"H-hey, uh, Mr. Colon?"  
Small. Your voice sounded small. A little croak in a dim hall. A quick clearing of the throat, you tried again. "Is, uh. Is anyone there? ... Hello?" An echo, and then silence. Just the humming of the exit sign near the main stairwell. Otherwise, it seemed you were alone.  
There's a cold chill in the air. Where was everyone? Were they all holed up in their rooms, too afraid to come out after that news report? Maybe... maybe checking in on them wouldn't be such a bad thing. You know. Just to be sure they were alright. It's not like you were particularly attached or connected to any of these people. But that doesn't mean you can't worry about them either.  
Shuffling back out into the apartment for a change of clothes, you pick up the remote and turn the tv back on. Only static greeted you. Clicking through the channels, you're quick to realize this must mean the satelite must be down. Whether in the complex or in your area you don't know. Well, no use bothering with this thing if there's nothing to show. It was about time to head out anyway. The clock read "10:32". If you didn't head out soon, then you'd be late for the mid-shift at the cafe down the road. A shoddy job with crap pay. But enough to live off of. You're stuck with the least likable shift, and one of the meaner baristas today. But even so, maybe you'll get some answers out of them if they bothered to watch the news this morning.  
Two cups of coffee and twenty minutes later, you're walking through downtown, in a better state then when you woke. There are sparse groups of people here or there. Still no cars or buses moving through, though. There's a cat sitting on a brick wall munching on something, an old woman kicking up dust with grocery bags in tow. Not quite bustling, but not quite out of the ordinary. You round the corner and find yourself at the old window front of the cafe. Your shift is looking through paperwork at the front when you step inside. The ringing of the bell bringing him out of his daily count, he nods at you before tapping away at a nearby cash register. It smells... strange, in here.  
"Hey, where's Tina?" You shrug off your sweater and take another look around. "Isn't she working today?"  
No response.  
"She isn't sick, is she? That would mean we'd be short-staffed for the day, and we can't-"  
"Don't worry about it. It's taken care of." He mumbled.  
"Ah, o...kay?" There was a tightness to his tone, a rigidness in his shoulders. Something definitely wasn't right. "So, do yoooou, want me to just get started on coffee? Or something?"  
"Don't bother. We're closing early." The register opened with a ding and he started grabbing fistfuls of cash, shoving them into a small handbag.

"Whoa, WHOA. HEY. WHat the heck are you doing?!"

"Doesn't matter. Not like anyone here cares anymore." What in the seven hells was that supposed to mean? He turned briefly, giving you a pointed look, "You saw the news this morning, yeah? No use trying to rough it out here anymore. Not like anyone cares with what's going on out there." He briefly gestured out the windows to the half empty scenery.  
"While you were snoozing it up earlier today, at least a good portion of the population skipped town and boarded a flight to some god-forsaken island. Or the antarctic or wherever." His hands trembled as they collected the bills. Jaw set as he slammed it shut. "I'm taking what I can and getting the hell out of here. I'd tell you to do the same, but I never gave a shit about anyone in this hick town."  
  
You were shoved to the side as he made for the front entrance. "Good fucking luck out there. You're going to need it." The doors slammed shut with a click and a ding. You were left standing there, uniform on, sweater in hand, and a dawning realization that maybe this was more serious than you initially thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where this pre-runner 5 isn't mute, but is actually so sassy, people fail to take them all that seriously.

There were sirens in the distance again. Too many to count. No more people in the streets, no more life to be seen. It was only thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of you standing there in that cafe with your mind on a load screen, trying to process what in the actual fuck just happened. Your shift robbed the store he worked for. You probably weren't going to get a paycheck this week. Some teenager rushed by on a bike screaming something to you about a hoard coming this way, and it started pouring rain just as you finally made the decision to leave. Just thirty minutes. But that's all it took sometimes for the whole town to go to shit.  
No matter where you looked, there was not a face to be seen. Just lots of strewn about items and a spilled bag of groceries in the middle of an intersection. Christ alive, where in the hell was everybody? 

You approach the front of your apartment complex, and take the stairs two at a time. No point in hanging around this place if everyone is skipping town. That would just leave you trapped in a ghost town with little to no way of figuring out a safe-zone. Especially since the cable was out. Not even your phone could get a singal, as your earlier tries to contact your friends confirmed. Without any real form of contact or direction, you were basically a sitting duck. A nice, juicy, sitting duck for whatever the fuck was out there. And let's face it, your stamina was about as reliable as dial-up internet. Fuck. This wasn't looking too great.  
Hurriedly opening the door, you fling your apron and hat on the floor and start taking note of what you have, what you can take with you, what you should leave behind, and what to use as a weapon. There isn't anything much, really. But something is better than nothing. Water, water... where were those bottles again? Ah, there we go. Now for food. There was no opportunities to go shopping, since you had to wait until you got paid. So it's a bit scarce on the sustenance as of right now. You stuff half of a container of frozen pizza rolls in a zip bag, and about six cans of soup in a large grey backpack you rummaged out of your closet. Two changes of clothes. Four pairs of underwear. You can wear a few layers of sweaters for the cold, so that's fine. A kitchen knife, (not a very good choice, but hey. It was one of those 'forever-sharp' ones. So it just might come in handy.) There was a small tool kit in the upper drawer by the sink and a hammer by the bed. The bag was big enough to not be bulging, but it was most certainly full. No guarantee for electricity, but you grab the charger for your phone anyway. Who knows. There might actually be internet somewhere, and you can get some kind of tip on a safe zone out there.

No time to lose. A quick exit from the building, not bothering to lock the front door. There was a Home Depot about six miles down the road to the east. The same direction that kid was traveling on the bike. If you walked fast enough, you could just make it before that hoard came. Loud sirens in the distance, too loud. Gods above, you were starting to get nervous.  
"Just breathe. One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe." You pace your walking, calming yourself. The wet crunch of dirt grinding against cement under your sneakers, shifting the bag on your shoulders. "It's fine. It's fine. You've played lots of zombie games. You've watched tons of movies about it. Just, just remember facts. Okay, yeah. Facts." Maybe talking to yourself would help you collect your quickly scattering thoughts. "Biting leads to zombie death. Contact, uh, no contact. Are they attracted by noises? I don't think that was ever covered. Oh, man. Shoot for the head? But I don't have a gun. Fuck. Okay. So I'd need to get close to them to do any damage. NO fucking thank you." 

You stop walking. Something isn't right. The world is.. it's too quiet. When did the sirens stop? Did you even notice that before? No, it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes since you left your house. What was...  
No, there was something else, now. Not sirens, but something... else?  
Face pinched in concern and concentration, you listen again, fingers gripping the black handle of your too-small kitchen knife. Something else painted the air. It hung, distant, but heavy. Just what the heck was that? It sounded familiar. Ah,  
oh.  
OH.  
Those were screams. Hundreds at the same time. Coming from in front of you. Maybe a mile or so off. A feeling akin to ice water being poured into your veins makes your body tense up, and your breathe hitches in fear.That's the direction that kid went in. Maybe even where the rest of the stragglers left of the population headed to find safety. There was so much screaming. It was so loud. They sounded so terrified. Did they need help? No, no you couldn't do that! You didn't even have a proper weapon! Let alone a safe place to hide! Besides, if you went there. If you went there, well. You could be the one to die instead. At least, with all of those people there, that hoard would be distracted, and you could-  
Jesus what has gotten into you. "God, jesus. I'm a horrible human being." You desperately whisper, suddenly feeling ill. "W-what do I do? Oh, g-god. Where am I supposed to go?"  
Your feet carry you back towards the direction of your house, the world blurring by. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! Christ! Where do I go?! T-there's nowhere else to go!"  
BANG! BANG!  
Gunshots?  
BANG!  
"Use the noise-maker! Take it towards that alley-way and toss it in that bin! You can climb up the fire-escape and rendezvous with me on the next street over!" A tall, dark-skinned male barreled around the corner, nearly slamming into you. But he stopped on a dime, gun immediately pointed between your eyes. Brown eyes glared momentarily, before lighting up in surprise. "Well, shit! We've got a kicker! Nearly made me blow your head off there!"

"W-wha-" YOU almost made him? That guy's got too loose of a hold on that thing! At least check if the person in front of you is-!

"No time, kid. Run! We've got about a dozen zoms in the area, and they're fresh out of the batch!" A large hand grabs your shoulder and pushes you, "Get the lead out of those short legs! Or you'll be a nice afternoon snack for those things!"  
"Don't push me around!! And my legs aren't short!" You immediately move into an awkward jog, knees high, breath erratic, attempting to keep pace. "Y-you're just freakishly tall!" With panic, come a snarky attitude. A self-defense mechanism you could really do without right now. But as it stands, your mind isn't one to be compromised in that area, so sass you shall, despite the circumstance. Saints alive, you're basically on auto-pilot now. Let the word vomit commence.

"I get that a lot!" This guy had the gall to look over his shoulder and smirk like he was running from a toddler with a water gun and not an actual form of fleshy cannibal ready to eat them both with a little honey mustard on the goddamn side.

"I'm sure you do!" it comes out high-pitched, nothing more than a frustrated squeak thumping away at his heels. You are truly a force to be reckoned with.  
This is not the time nor the place for banter, so you continue to run after this guy. You have no other place to go, and maybe they have some kind of base of some sort out there for you to take cover in. Maybe a basement or a bomb shelter, or hell, even a fucking vehicle would be nice.You'd take a goddamn tricycle at this point, with how heavy your legs are beginning to feel. He's fast, though. A little too fast for you. By the time you reach the next street over, you make it apparent that you need a breather, and cannot go anywhere without more oxygen in your system. 

"Jeez, kid. No offense. But your stamina kind of sucks."

"Like. Your. Taste in. Shoes." You puff through heavy breaths. Fuck this chuck taylor wearing weirdo. It's all too much. You haven't even fully accepted the situation yet. You're out of a home and a job and a secure place to be. Left on the curb during a city wide evac, and too stunned to question any of it. Now you're running like mad through downtown and you aren't even going to get paid. Just, literally, fuck this day.

He laughs with good nature, and shakes his head. "Looks like you retained a bite of your own, despite the circumstances." A smile, and then, "My name is Chase. Nice to meet you. What's your name?"

"Me? I'm, uh..." Chase? Did he get that nickname because people always have to run after his tall ass, or what? 

"HEY!" a woman's voice called out, startling you from your thoughts. She jogged with ease, a small pack hung on her back. She is petite and quick on her feet. She could probably even out-pace mister jolly green giant here. "It worked, they're all cramming into that tiny alley! We've got maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops before they disperse after destroying that noise-maker."

"Good! That gives us plenty of time to meet back with the others." Looking back at you, he says, "Oh! By the way, Kit. This here, is Uh." 

"I am literally going to smack you." You respond without missing a beat, your bad habit of having a loose tongue earning a laugh out of them both. 

"Well, now! Certainly a saucy one! Hey there, I'm Kit! I'd like to tell you more than just my name, but we're on a schedule here, so we can chat more at the meet-up. C'mon then!" She takes off at a steady pace, the tall guy following, and your huffing self in tow. 

"We've got about a mile and a half distance to cover before we're in the clear." her voice can barely be heard over the pounding in your ears.

"Yeah. So pick up the pace, Uh." This guy. You'll smack him someday.

It's apparently the end of the world and you've got little to no inclination on how you should go about with survival. You've got a bag of supplies, the clothes on your back, and two strangers to lead the way. It's already been about three and a half hours since you woke up. Looks like you missed the grand reveal of the apocalypse.  
Funny. You thought it would have gone off with a much bigger bang than this. It was the surprise and eventful equivalent to a party popper during a sad birthday party. Well, you guessed this was it. The end of the world as you knew it. And you slept in for the first half of the action. Though, for once, you didn't really mind being all that late to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually finding this a bit fun.  
> It's quite motivating to know that people are actually reading this! Even if it is only two or three! It makes me excited to try and keep moving with it! Tell me what you think, perhaps? 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trips and odd flavored peanuts

You'd think after six hours of listening to Chase sing the same song, you'd want to kill someone in a way deserving of such an annoyance. "Vida Loca" has a lot of novelty rubbed off when it is consistently sung in a bad spanish accent. But with how hungry you were, and how little sleep you had gotten the night before, it just wasn't in you to do something like that.  
The steady rocking of the truck as it moved over uneven ground and the rumble of the engine started to lull you into tired state of coherence. It was night, and you had been on the road with these people for a few days now.  
"Not much further." Chase had said more than once. Yeah, sure. Like the other forty or fifty miles before. He was a good guy, good disposition, healthy sarcasm and an insatiable need to make a joke every hour. Playful hazel eyes and a shaved head with a strange looking red bandana he seemed quite attached to. Dark skin, the color of umber, with bits of dirt fleck on his cheek from hanging out the window so often to look at the tires. The vehicle was looking 'tired' is what he had said after coming in. Jesus, this guy.  
Chase's companion, who later on told you her name was Anya, was petite in every way. Small hazel eyes, small hands and feet, small button nose and only came up to your nose in height. She had a lot of heart and was quick to see the brighter side of things. Like her wacky companion over here. She didn't seem to mind your prodding every now and again on where you were going or what this 'base' was supposed to look like. She took your questions in stride, all while cleaning her equipment in the back seat and rechecking her ammo. 

"You'll know it when you see it," she laughed after you asked for the fifth time in an hour. You were starting to get a bit restless. There was another violent jostle, sending you colliding against the window with a 'thump'. 

"How can I know it if I don't know what it looks like?" another bump and jostle. "Hope these tires hold up. This is some serious off-roading business we got going on here."

"Well, the structure of the base is a bit... Unorthodox. It's hard to spot and easy to miss if you aren't really looking. But when you see it, you'll know it. I promise." She tosses another quick smile your way. 

"That. Is the most cryptic bullshit. I have ever heard."  
"Sounds like someone's hungry." Chase chimed in, tossing another pack of peanuts at you. "Eat so you won't be 'hangry' anymore." you shake your head, a look of annoyance and confusion, a question you didn't exactly want to voice. Chase obliged anyway. "It means angry and hungry. You're the kind of person who gets cranky when they're hungry. Like a small child. Or a cat."

"I am NOT 'hangry'" you say with a bit of trepidation. Tearing off the top of the small pack with your teeth, you grumble to yourself out of spite. It was a long trip and all you saw for miles were just trees and rocks and more than a few dead birds and deer. Seems whatever this outbreak was, it had no effect on animals. You tossed that observation to the back of your mind and dumped a few peanuts into your mouth. You made a face. "Are these chipotle flavored peanuts? That's fucking gross."

"Oh just eat the food and stop driving us NUTS." 

A groan of disapproval. "Chase, please."  
"No need to get spicy." a shit eating grin appeared on his face. Alight like a child in mischief. Anya tossed a dirty rag at him, unable to suppress her own smile. It was going to be a long trip. 

\----------------------------------------------

It was dawn. The truck was quiet. The air cold from the open window. The smell of wet grass and pine met your sense as you groggily rose from your position up against the window. The truck had stopped, and everyone was outside, murmuring amongst themselves in the weak morning light. There were still stars out. You sat up slightly, and looked around.  
It was still too dark to see, but you could just barely make out three figures standing to the left of the car, all making subtle gestures and pointing somewhere off in the distance. 

"...but there isn't much time for that. We don't have the rations to make it that far. We'll have to stop somewhere and search for more food if he wants us to meet there." Anya's voice, sounding unsure and a bit upset. 

"Yeah. I'm with An on this. It's going to be another four or five days trip past the mountains if we do this. I mean, I get that our options are limited, but does it really have to be that particular checkpoint? Isn't there another base nearby that the Captain can reach out to?" Chase's silhouette seemed to shuffle in place. "I mean... we kind of have ourselves to think about here, too. We won't make it past that city limit with how many Zoms have taken over the east area."

There was a long silence. Nothing but the sounds of the crickets and a distant owl punctuating the silence. There was something heavy in the air, a feeling of fear and a knowing of compromise. There wasn't enough information for a proper deduction of the situation. But based on the tone of their voices, it wasn't something good. Images of the cities past, ones with smoke sitting like a crown on high buildings and the distant screams of survivors being eaten alive. There wasn't a person alive who would want to be stuck in a situation like that. If there was a problem, you hoped to whatever god was listening that it would work itself out. 

A deep, gravely voice, no doubt the truck driver John, mumbled, "Well, we ain't got nothin' else goin' for us here. It's either that checkpoint, or we stay put and radio in. The way I see it, we've got about five days worth of travel by night, not countin' the times we gotta switch drivers. Blake's team has already moved on ahead of us, now. We could try getting in contact with them." Shuffling sounds, coming towards the driver side door. 

You dont' know why you didn't move. Probably because you felt like a child being caught in the act of eavesdropping, an unknowing participant of the conversation. Eyes pointed down at your feet, you remained still. Whoever it was leaned into the open window, reaching for something on the dash. There were no sounds of shuffling grass that signaled they had moved away. Just a long, deathly silent pause. The air began to feel a little colder. 

"Don't know why we picked you up, kid." came the mumbling. It was John. "But be it fate or fuckery, you're here now. You better hope it was for the best." 

The words didn't have any immediate effect. They simply hung in the air between the two of you. No malignancy, no sarcasm. It was a fact stated in a tired tone. An unearthed emotion residing just beneath the surface of that sentence that signified something much, much more than he let on.  
He moved away and walked back towards the others. You were left alone again with the remaining energy of that one-sided exchange, and the first weak rays of sunshine over the wooded horizon.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------

There wasn't much else to do once you were back on the road again. Chase told you there were a few pit stops that they had to make and Anya was marginally less happy than the days before. John was listening to the radio again. Old tunes ranging from rock to country coming out in small bursts of static along with the occasional radio broadcast about staying safe indoors or finding a safe place to flee. He would turn the knob every now and again and your eyes would drift to the strange tattoo along the inside of his wrist. The man was burly, to be sure. But the lack of tattoos save for the one seemed to surprise you a bit. You'd seen lots of guys like John in your town. Old beat up boots and worn jeans. Plaid top with a well used jacket. Scruffy face, tanned skin and a mean look about him. They always seemed to have tattoos covering parts of their bodies.  
You look up to see him eyeing you in the mirror, and eyebrow quirked at your obvious staring. Feeling a bit embarrassed, you promptly look away, opting to view the dirty glass window instead. The ride was smoother, you noted. There were some back paths comprised mostly of dirt that stretched a decent distance. At least you wouldn't have to worry about slamming your head into the window again.

"Alright. It's WAY too quiet in here for my liking. Hey, new kid. Play 20 questions with me!" He was sitting with his back against the car door, knees drawn up. He nudged you with a dirty sneaker. "C'mon! It'll be fun! Help us pass the time, you know? Might as well. Seeing as how we've got a few days drive ahead of us." He grinned again, looking over the seat to the back trunk space at Anya. "You join in too! It'll help the new kid feel more comfortable."

"Ugh. Chase, we've done this before. A thousand times already. What more could you possibly want to know?" 

"Nothing, really. But who knows! I might get you to reveal something juicy this time around." He grinned.

A sigh. "Chase, I already told you that the worst thing I've ever done was steal a ferret from the local pet store I used to work at. I'm clean. I can promise you that." 

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see." he shuffled for a bit, getting comfortable. "So!" Chase rubbed his hands together, "First question!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> toss me some questions you'd like to hear! I'm all ears, my friends!

**Author's Note:**

> I was actually itching to make a story that would resonate with all of the current and future runner fives out there.  
> I would love it if you would all share with me some of you personal experiences or even internal or external monologues or responses to the game as you played it! I want to make this a collective story of all the runner fives out there, and their experiences!
> 
> (Also, a side note. This will get more mature as we move along. I do hope you will be patient with me on this.)


End file.
